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From Sunset Ridge

poems old and new

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IN MY VALLEY
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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115

IN MY VALLEY

From the hurried city fleeing,
From the dusty men and ways,
In my golden sheltered valley,
Count I yet some sunny days.
Golden, for the ripened Autumn
Kindles there its yellow blaze;
And the fiery sunshine haunts it
Like a ghost of summer days.
Walking where the running water
Twines its silvery caprice,
Treading soft the leaf-spread carpet,
I encounter thoughts like these:—
“Keep but heart, and healthful courage,
Keep the ship against the sea,
Thou shalt pass the dangerous quicksands
That insnare Futurity;
“Thou shalt live for song and story,
For the service of the pen;
Shalt survive till children's children
Bring thee mother-joys again.

116

“Thou hast many years to gather;
And these falling years shall bring
The benignant fruits of Autumn,
Answering to the hopes of Spring.
“Passing where the shades that darkened
Grow transfigured to thy mind,
Thou shalt go with soul untroubled
To the mysteries behind;
“Pass unmoved the silent portal
Where beatitude begins,
With an equal balance bearing
Thy misfortunes and thy sins.”
Treading soft the leaf-spread carpet,
Thus the Spirits talked with me;
And I left my valley, musing
On their gracious prophecy.
To my fiery youth's ambition
Such a boon were scarcely dear:
“Thou shalt live to be a grandame,
Work and die, devoid of fear.”
“Now, as utmost grace it steads me,
Add but this thereto,” I said:
“On the Matron's time-worm mantle
Let the Poet's wreath be laid.”